


On the Road to Mistral

by Kiiratam



Series: Monsters of Mistral [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Bumbleby Week 2019, Canon Compliant, F/F, It is said that every person has seven doubles in this world, Light Angst, Light Beehaw, Light Yangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 16:31:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19908787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiiratam/pseuds/Kiiratam
Summary: Caught in a thunderstorm on the road to Mistral, Yang and Bumblebee stop at a farmhouse, and see a familiar face.Takes place during Volume 4, Chapter 12, before Yang turns off towards Branwen turf. (My BMBLB fic index)Written for Bumbleby Week 2019, day 7: Growing old/Future.





	On the Road to Mistral

Yang pounded on the farmhouse door with her metal arm, as thunder roared and the rain poured down. The storm had washed out the main road, and she'd backtracked to a country road, hoping to find a way around. But night had fallen, and she'd nearly ridden off the road twice and this was the first sign of habitation she'd seen in hours.

  
"Hello! Anyone in there? I'm practically drowning out here!"

  
The door swung open, and a shotgun barrel pointed into her face.

  
"Whoa, whoa!" Yang held her hands up and away from her body. "I don't want to hurt anyone! I just need a place to spend the night. Out of the rain." She pointed up, tried to grin.

  
The shotgun held steady on her. Yang looked past it, only able to make out a silhouette. About her height, long hair, with a bow on top. A bow? No, they just moved. Ears. Just like Blake's.

  
"Look, can I spend the night in your barn with my bike? I'll clear out first thing in the morning. I can give you lien now."

  
The shotgun lowered fractionally. Thunder crashed. A child cried in the room inside, and was quickly hushed by a quiet voice.

  
"Or I could do some work for you tomorrow. Or even hunt down some Grimm for you. I'm a Huntress."

  
Finally, the figure lowered the shotgun. She said. "Fine. The barn's unlocked. Don't do anything to the cows. You can sleep in the hayloft. We'll talk payment in the morning."

  
"Thank-" The door was closed in her face. "-you." Yang was too tired and too wet to be angry. She sloshed her way through the puddles and mud, back to Bumblebee. "Okay, girl, we'll get you out of the rain and cleaned up." She guided her motorcycle over to the big barn, unlatched the door, pulled it open, and got herself and Bumblebee under cover. Yang closed the door, wrinkling her nose at the musty order. At least it was dry. Pulling her scroll out, she set it on her bike's seat for a little light.

  
She dug in her saddlebags, pulling out a clean towel and a pair of rags. Good, still dry. Yang peeled herself out of her jacket, hanging it on a handlebar. No point in getting changed, if she was going to be sleeping in a hayloft. She squeezed as much water as she could out of her hair, patted herself dry with the towel, and tied her hair up with it. It wasn't going to dry until she was back on the road, but at least it wasn't hanging wet down her neck.

  
Grabbing the rags, she turned her attention to Bumblebee. And the mud. So. Much. Mud. Better to clean it up before it dried, but she longed for the garage at Beacon Academy, with plenty of light, and a nice long hose, and Blake sitting on her workbench, reading, and swapped her clean rags when she needed them.

  
She squeezed the mud out of the rags, and hung them on the foot pegs. Yang looked at her filthy hands, and scrubbed the worst off with a handful of straw. She gingerly picked up her scroll, using it to light her search for a ladder going to the hayloft.

  
Finding it, she slowly climbed up, trying not to groan as her legs protested. She reached the top, and flopped into the largest pile of straw. An indignant meow came from a few feet away. "Sorry, kitty. Didn't see you." She reached into a pocket, pulled out a handful of travel bars, peeled a wrapper open, and took a bite. "Don't have any food you'd like, either." There was no response. A few more bites, and the bar was gone. Yang looked at the rest of them, weighed her own fatigue, and stuffed them back in her pocket, along with her scroll. She closed her eyes, hoping the exhaustion she felt would keep the nightmares at bay.

* * *

  
Yang awoke with light in her eyes, and a weight on her chest. She blinked, holding a hand up to block the light coming through a crack in the barn wall. The barn cat, a lean black one, stood up from her chest, stretched, and leapt away. She sat up, brushing straw from herself, checked her scroll. Just a bit after sunrise. Time to settle up with the farmer, and get on her way. She hoped it didn't cost her too much, in lien or time.

  
Climbing down from hayloft, she unwound the towel from her hair, sighing as her damp hair flopped back down. She stuffed the towel back into a saddlebag, and the dirty rags into a side pouch. She'd have to stop and wash those out. There should be plenty of places to do it, after last night. Leaving Bumblebee in the barn, she stepped out to find the farmer.

  
She found a mess of kids - eight or nine, she wasn't sure - all running around the farmyard. Hanging out laundry, tending to beehives, pumping water, grabbing firewood, poking at mud puddles and getting dragged back and scolded by their older siblings. They turned to look as she stepped out of the barn, Faunus ears suddenly alert, then went back to their work.

  
Yang held out her hand to stop the nearest one, a little girl with hair as bright as her own, but tied up in a mess of tiny braids. "Hey, where's your mom? I need to talk to her."

  
The girl pointed back at the house. "She's in there, but I have to take the cows out."

  
"Okay. Need me to move my bike?"

  
She peeked inside the barn, then shook her head. "No, it should be okay."

  
"Okay, thanks." Yang started toward the house, dodging kids on the way.

  
The door was open, but she rapped on the door frame and stepped back. No need to worry anyone. "Hello? Thanks for letting me stay in your barn. Uh, you said we'd talk about payment now?"

  
The farmer reappeared, the shotgun held low at her side. And - Yang couldn't believe her eyes. It was Blake.

  
Or, at least, close enough to be Blake's long-lost older sister. Same dark hair, with the same cute little curls behind her ears. Same face, and fierce golden eyes but without make-up. Same frame, but farmer's garb was a far cry from the tight, strappy things Blake usually wore. Same ears, but they weren't bound up with a black silk ribbon.

  
Yang smiled at her, a bit more genuine than if she was just smiling to be polite. "Morning, ma'am."

  
"My husband should be back today, along with my oldest. They probably just got delayed by the storm."

  
"It washed out the main road, so I can believe it. I'm sure they'll be back soon. Could you tell me how to get back to the Mistral-Vale road? I wandered around a lot last night, and I'm still turned around."

  
She pointed with her free hand. "Just go back along that trail, then head south on the county road. There are a couple of turns, but you should get back on the Mistral road within an hour."

  
"Thanks. So, uh-" Yang put her hand behind her head. "Sorry, you look exactly like a friend of mine. Can I ask your family name?"

  
"Wolfsbane."

  
"Ah, okay. No relation, then. She's a Belladonna."

  
The farmer quirked her face in the same way Blake did, when she was remembering a fact for class. "It is said that everyone has seven doubles in this world. Your friend must be one of mine."

  
Yang nodded. "Must be. So, did you want lien? A room for the night would usually run me 60, so call it another 20 for the inconvenience, and another 20 if I could get some breakfast. Or, I can do some work for you. I grew up on a homestead, so I'm not an idiot city girl. Or," she indicated Ember Celica, "I can see about some local Grimm."

  
Mrs. Wolfsbane looked at her, considering the numbers. "Split wood for two hours, and I'll give you breakfast now. Or the 100, if you want to get back on the road now."

  
"I'll split the wood. Give everything some time to dry out."

  
"I'll make up a plate. Wait here."

  
Yang stepped away from the door, and stood admiring the sunrise, rolling her shoulders and shaking her hands out. It had been a long while since she split wood. Dad had done all of it when she was at home. He had joked that he needed the workout, since he was going up against the latest Atlas tech. She looked down. At least one of her hands wouldn't get blisters.

  
"Miss?" Mrs. Wolfsbane had finally put down the shotgun. She walked out of the house, holding a bowl and a cup. She moved nothing like Blake, just a steady stomping forward. None of her double's grace. Blake didn't move like a dancer, though. Dancing was all about communicating, showing off. Blake moved like a Huntress, stalking with easy motions, and exploding with speed when the fight was on. Yang half shook her head. She'd read too many of Blake's romances, if that description leapt into her head unbidden.

  
She accepted the bowl of oatmeal - generously topped with fruits and nuts, with a spoon already in it - and the glass of milk. "Thanks. So where's the wood pile?"

  
"Other side of the house. Amber!" One of the older girls, a teenager with blonde hair in a long braid, left off hanging laundry and walked over, ears quirked.

  
"Yes, mom?"

  
"Show the Huntress where the wood pile is, and go get the maul and wedges while she eats. Then bring the dishes back, and go back to your work."

  
"Okay."

  
"And get Jet, and make him stack the wood for the Huntress. She'll be able to get more done that way."

  
Amber nodded, and turned to Yang. "Okay, miss Huntress. Just follow me." She started off, and Mrs. Wolfsbane headed back into the house. Yang looked after her, trying not to stare. Was this who Blake could have been, if the White Fang hadn't gotten its teeth into her? She inwardly shrugged, took a swig of the milk, and followed after Amber.

  
No point in speculating, really. Blake had joined the White Fang, had met Adam, had been torn apart by him and his damn ambitions. Had pieced herself back together, and come to Beacon. Met Yang, chose Yang to be her partner on that first mission. Brought down an Ursa to do it, too. She shared a face with Mrs. Wolfsbane, and that was all.

  
"How many Grimm have you killed?" Amber asked, as they rounded the house.

  
Yang shrugged. "I don't keep track. Lots. Beowolves, Ursai, Boarbatusks, couple of Griffons. Brought down a Nevermore with my team."

  
"Where are they? Your team?"

  
Yang tried to smile. "All over. One's traveling through Mistral, another's up in Atlas, and I don't know about the last."

  
Amber pointed at the splitting stump. "You can eat there. I have to go get the tools. And Jet." She started to walk off, stopped. "Why did your team split up?" She watched Yang's face fall, and tried to recover. "I'm sorry, that was a stupid question. I shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry."

  
Yang stirred her oatmeal. "It's okay. I'm headed to meet one of them. Maybe we'll be able to get the team back together."

  
"Good luck, miss Huntress. I'll be right back." She started off towards the barn, braid bouncing.

  
Setting the cup of milk next to her, Yang started spoon the oatmeal into her mouth. Best to eat quickly, put some good work in, and get on the road. She didn't belong here. As much as half the kids looked like they could be her younger siblings, as much as Mrs. Wolfsbane looked like Blake - she was a Huntress, not a farmer.

  
Yang kept eating, pouring a little milk in to keep it going down easy. It wasn't anything fancy, just simple, working food. She felt a sudden, desperate craving for ramen from that shop on the Vale harbor, the one Sun had showed to Blake. Or a strawberry sunrise, made fresh on a beach. She half-snorted to herself. The sun was barely up. It was too early to start drinking, even if your name was Qrow Branwen. Mainly because she'd never seen him up at dawn. Or mid-morning, even. She was pretty sure he didn't really wake up until late afternoon, even if he sometimes staggered around earlier than that.

  
Her spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl. Amber returned, a maul in hand, a black-haired boy trailing in her wake, holding a pair of splitting wedges. "Jet, this is-" Amber paused, flushing. "I'm sorry, miss Huntress, I didn't ask your name."

  
"I'm Yang."

  
"Well, this is my little brother Jet. He's going to stack the logs once you split them. Just toss them in a pile towards the house, and he'll get them all neatly stacked. _Neatly stacked_ , Jet. And stop chewing on that piece of grass, you look like a bumpkin."

  
Yang held the bowl up to her face, shoveling the last couple of spoonfuls into her mouth. She stood up, drained the last of the milk, stacked them together, and handed them off to Amber.

  
"I'll tell mom to start the timer."

  
"Thanks, Amber." Yang rolled her shoulders, picked up the maul in her new arm, and an intact log from under the tarpaulin. She set it on the splitting stump, adjusted it a touch, set her stance. "Okay, Jet, let's see how many of these we can get done. Just stay clear."

  
"Yes, miss Yang."

  
She grabbed the maul in both hands, hefted it to her shoulder, chose her aim point, and... over and through! Nice clean cut. Yang stooped, grabbed the pieces, and tossed them off towards the house, well out of her line of swinging. Grab the next log, set, grip, heft, aim, cut, toss. Grab, set, grip...

* * *

  
"Miss Yang? My mom says you've gone for two hours." Amber was back.

  
Covered in a fine layer of sweat, Yang nodded, finished the log she was on, and grounded the maul. "Last one, Jet." She said, tossing the final pieces onto the pile. He'd been scrambling, putting them on a different stack, and the pile hadn't ever grown too large.

  
Yang gathered up the maul and splitter wedges. It had been good wood; she hadn't had to use the wedges too much. "Where do you want these, Amber?"

  
"I'll take them. Mom just wants you to swing by the house before you go. She copied out a map for you, from ours." She held out her arms, took the tools, headed off.

  
Yang pulled out a handkerchief, wiping the sweat from her brow. She tried to ignore the blisters on her real hand. "Thanks for all the help, kid."

  
Jet nodded seriously at her, switching the stalk of grass to the other side of his mouth.

  
Circling the house, she was met at the door by Mrs. Wolfsbane, with a folded piece of paper in one hand and a cup of water in the other. And no shotgun in sight. She handed them both over to Yang without a word.

  
The map matched the directions she'd been given earlier, written in a neat, small hand. The water may have been well water, but after two hours in the rising sun, Yang wasn't going to complain. "Thank you, Mrs. Wolfsbane. Got that first stack all split, and started on the one after that. Should be set for a couple days, at least."

  
"My husband called. He saw the washout in the Mistral road you mentioned. It's being cleared, but you should be able to get by."

  
"Much obliged, you finding that out for me." Yang nodded. "I should get on the road. I'm burning daylight." She turned toward the barn.

  
Mrs. Wolfsbane called after her. "Huntress!"

  
Yang turned back around. "Yes?"

  
"I see how you look at me. You must care for my double a great deal."

  
Swallowing, Yang nodded. "I do."

  
"When you see her again, be sure to treat her right. Keep her safe. That old saying, about seven doubles. They're all linked. They're all born around the same time, they all die around the same time. Keep your Belladonna friend safe, live a long life. Give up Huntressing, if you need to."

  
Yang nodded. "I'll protect her. You've got a lovely family out here. If you ever need a Huntress, put out word for Yang Xiao Long. Or Team RWBY."

  
"Thank you."

  
"Mrs. Wolfsbane." Yang started towards the barn. Time to mount up and get back to the road. In a few days, she'd have to make a choice. But for now, it was just Bumblebee and the road to Mistral.

**Author's Note:**

> I first read the line about seven doubles in an old folk tale called Catarina the Wise, where it's a line Catarina uses as part of a ploy. It's good reading, if you can ever find it. But it's a better line, even better if it's actually true. I know I've had friends meet my doubles. Never met one myself, though.


End file.
